Family Ties
by StarStealer
Summary: One year after the events of GTA 5 take place, a new threat is thrust upon Michael, Franklin and Trevor as a result of their actions in the end of GTA 5. Each struggles to deal with their own personal issues (as always) while trying to stay alive and stay one step ahead of the law. Ultimately, they will discover that family is the tie that binds and destroys. Includes O/Cs.
1. Prologue

**Grand Theft Auto 5 - Family Ties**

**Prologue **

"Oh ho ho ho ho, there's enough here for us all to enjoy!" Trevor Philips exclaimed with devious glee as he and Michael Townley hastily made their entrance into the Ludendorff Bobcat Security bank vault.

"Depends on how you look at it," Michael said as he approached a cart packed high with stacks of bills and promptly began shoving the money into the large, army green colored duffel bag without hesitation.

"Come on! Move it!" Trevor urged towards Michael, already having finished with stuffing his own bag and headed out.

Michael gave a short nod and finished packing the last cash stacks into his bag and quickly zipped it up, slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder and proceeding to follow Trevor.

"Comin' out B!" he yelled to signal to Brad that they were done.

It happened so fast he could barely register it - a security guard who had been hidden against the side wall of the vault lunged forward and roughly grabbed him by his shoulder, the guard's other arm locking around Michael's neck securely. "Ahhh!" Michael cried out in momentary shock, immediately ceasing to struggle. "Give it up! I got him!" the guard yelled triumphantly.

"_Shit! How in the fuck?!_" he thought, his mind racing. "_Why in the obvious fuck didn't Brad see him?!_"

The guard clutched Michael close and immediately raised his pistol to Michael's temple. His right hand then gripped the fabric of Michael's hockey mask and yanked it up and away, exposing Michael's face.

"I SAW your face. I'll REMEMBER you!" the guard warned, shoving the pistol tip right back against Michael's temple.

Michael held up his hands, indicating that he intended no resistance. He briefly shot a side ways glance to Trevor who was standing in front of them both, gun aimed and ready. Michael drew in a short breath and continued to hold up his hands in submission.

"_Fucking idiot guard_," his thoughts hissed. This guy had not been apart of the plan. Hostages, sure but not this idiot with a hero complex. Michael chose his next words carefully and spoke as calmly as he could to both the guard and to his friend who stood ready and willing to fire. He didn't want any innocent blood shed if he could avoid it.

"You forget a thousand things every day. How about you make sure this is one of them?" Michael spoke while trying to convey a strong tone of suggestion to both the guard and his trigger happy pal. "_This doesn't have to end badly,_" he thought, his adrenaline pumping through his veins like wildfire through a forest.

"I've SEEN his eyes! He's crazy!" the guard said, panic now evident in his voice. It was then that it dawned on Michael. The guard was referring to Trevor.

"_Fucking great time to be an astute observer,_" Michael thought and swallowed nervously. He could see Trevor's eyes narrow at the word "crazy". He shot Trevor another stern glance. "_C,moon…lower the gun T…_" he mentally urged.

Michael could practically see Trevor's devious smile beneath his mask at this point.

"It'll be quick…probably," Trevor said in a tone that oozed indifference.

"No one's crazy!" Michael said desperately. He could feel the tension in the air and it was thick as hell. "All right," he began calmly, licking his lips. "Let's think-"

BAM!

He felt the guard's arms fall away from his neck and even though his ears were ringing from the sound of the shot, he could very vaguely hear the sound of a body hit the floor. He also felt soft, warm flecks of blood dot his cheek and neck.

"**FUCK**!" Michael screamed, putting a finger to his ear and rubbing it to soothe the dull aching. He grit his teeth and shot Trevor a heated look that could have melted ice. "Shit! You didn't have to do that!"

Michael turned around and looked down at the lifeless guard. A small trickle of blood began to ooze out from a single, clean hole right smack in the middle of his forehead. He was dead.

"Let's get going! There'll be time for grieving later…" Trevor said, his voice latent with sarcasm. Michael ran a hand over his face and head, feeling the guard's blood that had hit him smear slightly at his touch then he shot Trevor another angry glare. "Yeah, you got that right…" he said under his breath. Shit like this was why he had cut the deal with Dave Norton. He had enough of Trevor's psychopathic bullshit antics and it was only a matter of time before the lash back of Trevor's actions hit him and Amanda and the kids or worse. Trevor was a maniac who didn't know or understand the word "stop".

He cast one last glance back at the guard's lifeless body and shook his head. What a waste of life.

"_You poor, dumb fuck_," he thought and began to trot off, the idea not escaping him that some day that might be him laying on the floor with a bullet hole in his head. Some day it might be him not coming home to his wife and kids. This guy sure as shit wasn't.

The three men took off down the hall, turning the corner, their footsteps echoing as the blood streamed down the dead guard's face, slowly reaching towards the floor. The guard's lifeless eyes stared but he no longer saw or thought anything. The light gleamed off his name tag that read, "Jaspers".

**Author's Note: I did my very best to watch the intro over and over again on YouTube so as to not miss any tiny details. Hopefully I got all the information and dialogue right but if I missed anything or messed anything up then I apologize. Thank you as always for reading.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Bad News

**Grand Theft Auto 5 - Family Ties**

**Chapter One - Bad News**

"Our next top story is breaking news concerning the Bobcat Security bank robbery. The three masked men involved-"

"Ding dong," chimed the door bell.

"Mattie can you get that? I have my hands full," her mother called from the kitchen.

Matilda set her pencil and sketchbook down on the carpet and pushed herself up from her position of laying down and headed for the front door. It really didn't occur to her as odd that their door bell was being rang at seven thirty-five at night. Nothing big ever happened in this town. It was more than likely someone trying to sell something or a neighbor with a reminder that her mom had left her car lights on.

She opened the door and what she saw next definitely took her by surprise and was not expected. There stood two police officers dressed in heavy, dark blue coats. Upon seeing her they exchanged brief uncomfortable glances and both removed their hats.

"Is…your mother home young lady?" the second asked.

"Yeah, she's making dinner…" Mattie said, hesitant of the whole situation. "Is…she in trouble?" she inquired innocently.

"It's…best that you just go get her please," the officer said in a tone that was kind but also reluctant.

Mattie nodded, "Yes sir…"

She closed the door only slightly and headed towards the kitchen. Her mother was busy checking and basting the pot roast in the crock pot. "Mom…?"

"Mattie honey, not now. Your dad will probably be home at any minute and you know how he gets if dinner isn't ready when he comes home. For some reason this stupid roast just is taking it's sweet time getting-"

"It's the cops," Mattie said shortly.

That caught her mother's attention. She set the baster down and placed the lid back on the crock pot, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her mother looking visibly flustered. "Cops?"

Mattie just nodded and looked at the ground nervously. "Yes ma'am…"

"What in the heck could they want at this hour?" her mother asked.

"I don't-" Mattie began but her mother moved swiftly past her, not really waiting for her answer. "Matilda keep your eye on that roast for just a moment, could you?"

Mattie just gave a short nod and glanced toward the crock pot but then cautiously stepped towards the side of the wall to eavesdrop.

"Yes? Can I help you officers?" her mother spoke softly.

What she head next took a while to register with her. The words almost didn't make sense and they certainly didn't hit home.

"Mrs. Jaspers? We…regret to inform you that your husband, William, was shot and killed this afternoon."

A long silence followed and Mattie suddenly felt as though she were standing in a long tunnel. The words seemed to echo in her brain but they wouldn't quite stick and register. Was this real?

Her mother's cries broke through her zone out.

"No. No, no, I-mean…No! It can't…NO! NO! NO! OH PLEASE NO!" she screamed, her voice wracked with pain and grief. Eventually her mother's words turned to pure sobs.

Mattie stood, her back pressed against the wall, swallowing hard, a lump in her throat. Her right hand subconsciously massaged the bruise on her left wrist as she let the words repeat over and over again in her head.

"_Killed_"

"_Regret to inform you_"

"_Shot_"

So many feelings flooded through her eleven-year old being that it was near impossible to process them all. After a long moment, she stepped away from the wall, shaken. She could hear the officers speaking gently to her sobbing mother but she didn't care to listen to anything else that had to be said.

She stepped back over to the crock pot and stared for a long moment at the roast cooking and sweltering inside, it's pleasant smell filling the kitchen.

She then removed the lid and began basting it. It was all she could do.

* * *

Many months had passed since her father's death. The funeral had come and gone. Mattie had not known how life would move forward after the news of her father being shot but she had been determined to help her grieving mother in any way possible.

She had taken on the daily chores as of late. Laundry, dishes, dinner, she had taken to doing all of it, anything she could do to help since her mother had retreated into a shell of depression and isolation. As for herself, she had reacted by not reacting. Maybe after all this time it still had not fully sunk in or maybe it just was that in the wake of her father's death, there was now more to worry about than ever. Either way, she tried not to think and dwell on it.

It was a chilly Sunday afternoon when Mattie arrived home, a bag of groceries in her arms. The sky was grey, cloudy and the snow had begun to melt on the ground leaving a sort of gritty slush in the streets and ugly, dirty clumps in the yard.

She hoisted the groceries in one arm and opened the mail box in the other. She grabbed the mail and headed inside.

The house was no warmer than the outside. She had insisted on leaving the heat off in the house to save on power.

She set the brown bag of groceries down and closed the door softly, wiping her boots on the rug. She turned towards the side table by the door and set the mail down. She didn't have to thumb through it because she already knew what most of the letters were by now.

Bill. Notice to pay. Late fee. Delinquency notice. Collections notice. It was all the same. Different day, same notice.

Today _would_ be different though. She wasn't going to let her mother see the bills or the notices today. She wanted today to be different and the bills would only give her mother more cause to worry and despair. Things _could_ change, but one of them would have to break the cycle of gloom that had invaded their lives ever since her father's death.

She took her boots off and headed up the stairs towards her mother's bedroom. "Mom?"

No response but that was normal. Most days lately her mother just sat in the floral patterned chair near her window and stared outside absent minded, alone with her thoughts.

Today would be different though.

"Mom! I got groceries and… I had an idea," she began talking loudly for her mother to hear, feeling her hope surge with every step she took. "I got us a cake mix because, well, I don't know if you remember this …" she continued, smiling just a little for the first time in a long time. "But my birthday is in a couple of days and I know it's…_pretty_…early to celebrate but … I just…I don't know, I want to do something fun, just you and I," she said, getting to the top of the stairs and heading down the hall to her mother's room. "We need to do something together, you and I. Something different, something fun, if only for one day."

She headed down the hall and saw that her mother's door was ajar just slightly to let a small slice of light creep into the hall.

"Mom? Did you hear me? Even if it isn't for my birthday, let's just-" she pushed the door open and the words froze in her throat.

Her mom was laying on the bed on her side. At first glance it would have appeared that she was fast asleep and normally Mattie would have thought nothing of it. But the trail of blood leading from the small bathroom to the bed was what caught her attention this time and told her that things were not okay.

She felt her body begin to shake and it took a very long moment before she could let go of the door handle and allow herself to step into the room, around the bed towards the side where her mother was laying. When she finally mustered up the courage to do so, her reaction was immediate. This was nothing like when she had heard the news of her father having been shot. The image hit home immediately.

Her mother was laying on her side, one arm curled into her while the other was stretched out over the edge of the bed. On the floor, by the side of the bed, resting in the middle of what seemed to be an ocean of blood, was a large kitchen knife.

Her mother was pale. Her skin had lost it's warm fleshy color and was replaced with a subtle grayish-white that looked so strange and foreign to Mattie.

Mattie looked and saw through tear filled eyes that the cuts extended down along the veins on her mother's wrists, her mother's hands and arms red from the blood letting.

Her hands shook as she reached out to touch her mother's. She grasped her mother's hands in her own, frightened by how cold they felt and at that instant she felt her heart, her whole being rip apart.

"WHY!?" she screamed in raw pain, feeling the sobs over take her as she rested her forehead against the bed, the blood soaking through the knees of her jeans.

She cried for what felt like hours but was in reality probably around ten or fifteen minutes. Dazedly she lifted her head, still sniffling. She knew that she couldn't leave her mother like this. Just looking at her brought a fresh wave of hot tears to her hazel colored eyes.

"Help…" she whimpered to no one in particular and looked around desperately, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She took notice of the phone sitting on the bedside table and scrambled over to it, through the blood pool, grabbing the phone as though her life depended on it. Her hands shook violently, making dialing the three numbers that she needed near impossible to do.

"Nine one one emergency how can I help you…?"

"Help," she began, already feeling herself wanting to break down all over again as she said the words. "My mom…my mom…" she struggled to tear the words out of her mouth. "Dead…she's dead…_please_ help…help me" she sobbed, gripping the phone.

"Your mother is…dead?"

"Yes, yes she, she hurt herself and she isn't moving and she's pale and-" she cried, her words just running together into one big jumbled heap.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to need you to try your best to calm down, breathe," the woman instructed and Mattie fought herself hard to follow the instruction given to her. If her father had been seen her like this he would have back handed for it.

The memory caused a brief pause in her sobbing and allowed her to speak a bit slower. "My mom, she cut her wrists and she's dead. I mean, I think she's dead, she's not moving and there's all this blood," she explained, her voice still shaking and choked up.

"Okay, I need you to sit tight, don't go anywhere. I'm going to send an ambulance and some police over. I got a trace on your call. Is your address 1432 Windhaven Drive?"

Mattie nodded quickly, eagerly before realizing that there was no way that the woman over the phone could see her nod. "Yes…yes…" she confirmed, her whole body shaking. She felt on the verge of throwing up.

"Okay, I'm sending the police-"

Suddenly, through her sorrow, the thought occurred to her as though triggered by the word "police". The cops would come, what then? They'd take her mom and then what? Both her parents were dead now. Where did that leave her? What would the police do with her?

The only relative that she knew of was her aunt on her mother's side. Her grandparents on both sides were either passed or gone, her mother never having known her father so her grandfather was completely nonexistent. Her dad was an only child so no aunts or uncles on his side.

Her aunt, her mother's sister, had relinquished contact with her mother around the time that Mattie had been three or four years old but she knew where she lived or at least her address. Family friends had their own families and the chance that they'd take her in for any longer than a couple of months was probably not likely and not something she wanted to chance. At least her aunt wouldn't, COULDN'T turn her away. She couldn't. She had a responsibility as family member to at least take her in.

"Hello? Miss? Are you still there? Hello?" the operator asked. All of a sudden, Mattie slammed the phone down on the receiver and forced herself to stand up. She had seen enough television and movies to know what happened to kids without parents was never pleasant. Foster parents, _if _she was lucky and if she found a pair that stuck. In every movie she'd seen the orphans would bounce from home to home.

"_Fuck that_," she thought wildly and began stripping off her bloodied clothes as she headed for the bathroom down the hall from her mother's room. Once inside she dropped the clothes into a pile and lunged at the sink, beginning to scrub the blood off her hands, leaving droplets of red stained water all over the sink and floor.

She stared briefly in the mirror at her reflection, swallowing hard and summoning all her courage. She looked as terrible as she felt.

Today was supposed to be different.

Within minutes she had run to her room and redressed, shoving clothes into an old purple duffel bag she had used in the past for family vacations. She glanced around for anything she could find that would be useful, stopping to look at her favorite stuffed animal, a stuffed pumpkin kid with a smiling jack-o-lantern face that she had gotten one Halloween from her father when she was younger. She picked it up and stared at it. It had often brought her comfort when her dad had hurt her or her mother and reminded her that deep down, somewhere he loved her and she had loved him too. And that's when it hit. It had taken months but it finally hit her and she felt her whole upper body clench against the physical and mental pain.

"Dad…" she whimpered and clutched the pumpkin kid, hugging it. "Why did you have to die? If you hadn't died mom would still be here. Things could have been different! _I_ would have been different…I would have been better," she sobbed, digging her fingers into the soft plush of the toy. Her father's death had ruined everything, it had destroyed her family, what little shreds of it there had been to begin with.

It was the sound of sirens in the far distance that made her tears momentarily cease and caused her sobs to down grade into sniffles. "_No time for crying now_," she thought.

She shoved the pumpkin kid into her bag and hurried to her parents' room. She immediately grabbed her mother's jewelry box and dumped it's entire contents into her bag, whispering softly, "I'm sorry mom." She'd need money to fund her trip to her aunt's house and she had heard her mother speak recently about potentially pawning what remained of her jewelry for money to pay bills.

She then hurried downstairs and ran to the kitchen, grabbing another knife from the knife block in the kitchen. She noticed that the big one was missing and remembered that it was currently taking up residency in a pool of blood in her mother's room. She shoved the smaller knife in the bag and zipped the bag up hastily. She ran to the patio doors out the back and slid it open, letting the cold night air wash over her. She drew in a deep breath, looking out into the darkness of her back yard, keenly aware that this was the last time she'd ever see the place she called home. "_Now or never_," she thought and then slipped out the door quietly into the night without a second thought.

She didn't look back.

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I want to make it very known that I'm not seeking to make this a romance. There will be romance in it to some degree just as there will be action, suspense and humor but it is not the primary focus on my story nor is it the primary reason for creating my O/Cs. I understand that in writing O/Cs they can be hard for some to embrace but I ask that you stick with me and give them a chance to tell their story before you judge them. Thank you :)**


	3. Chapter 2 - Eleven Years Later - Michael

**Grand Theft Auto 5 - Family Ties**

**Chapter Two - Eleven Years Later - Michael**

"FUCK YOU JIMMY! **FUCK YOU**!"

**SLAM! BANG! **

There came a series of loud thuds and banging noises coming from the upstairs portion of the De Santa residence.

"I'LL FUCKING **KILL** YOU JIMMY!" Tracey screamed as she lobbed another shoe straight at her brother's closed door.

"What in the _FUCK_ is going on here?!" Michael screamed as he peeked his head out of his bedroom door just in time to see a shoe fly across the hall and collide loudly with his son's door. "TRACEY! What in the hell-"

"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" Tracey screamed, tears running down her cheeks, her face an angry red and her facial features contorted into a look of sheer rage.

"Whoa! No one is going to kill ANYONE! Calm down!" Michael urged and tried to step out into the hall, holding up his hands. "Trace! Sweet heart! Put the-"

**BANG!**

"PUT THE FUCKING SHOES DOWN!" he screamed and his bellowing voice caused Tracey to jump and turn her attention on him. "You're _ALWAYS_ taking his side! What about _MY_ side?!" her anger and venom was now turned solely on Michael. "Whoooa! Trace! I don't even know what the hell is going on! At least tell me what happened!"

"RIGHT! YOU DON'T KNOW! SO STAY OUT OF THIS DAD!" she cried dramatically. Michael ran a hand over his face in complete frustration. "For fuck's sake Tracey, I'm _trying_ to understand- AMANDA! A little help here?"

From inside their bedroom, Amanda was currently pulling her long brown hair back into a simple pony tail, brushing it out in a rather aggravated manner. "No. NO. _NO_! I am _not_ going to get in the middle of this Michael, you are _NOT_ making ME into the bad guy here! Not this time!"

Michael's opened in protest. "_Bad guy_?! I'm not trying to make you into the bad guy! I'm just asking you to be a MOTHER and maybe stop your children from tearing out each other's throats!"

**BANG! **

"Or at least save the **FUCKING DOORS IN THIS HOUSE**!" Michael roared. Amanda stepped out from the bathroom and sat down on the bed, shaking her head as she reached over for her tennis shoes. "That's RICH Michael coming from you. How about you be a DAD and handle it? GOD FORBID you had to interact with your children in a disciplinary manner for once!"

"Amanda, baby… I'm-" he paused, struggling to gather his words and place them in the right order so as not to offend his wife. "I'm all for handling this so long as you can get OUR daughter to not embed a fucking high heel into my head in the process! That's all I'm asking here!"

Michael relented and drew in a deep, deep breath. He counted slowly, mentally, in his head, trying to calm the rising tide within him that was his temper.

"_Patience…one, two, three…_" he mentally chanted and then gave a long exhale, letting all the air flow out of his lungs in a calming and soothing way.

He slowly opened his eyes and approached his wife. "Amanda, look, we agreed to work on things, right? On _us_. That means all of us, right?" he said, speaking now in a much softer tone.

"_If this doesn't work then fuck me, I don't know what will_," he thought.

He kneeled down on one knee besides the bed and looked to his wife who was avoiding making eye contact as she laced up her shoes, seemingly ignoring him.

"I'm not trying to lay this all on you baby," he calmly explained and felt his irritation rise as he realized that she wasn't looking at him. "Amanda, look at me!" he said in a tone that was a bit more snappish than he would have liked.

"_ONE, TWO, THREE…_"

"Please…" he began very slowly. "_Please_ look me in the eyes baby," he spoke much softer now, amending his tone. Amanda heaved an exaggerated sigh of irritation and finally paused and looked him dead-on in the eyes.

Michael slowly reached out and took her hands very gingerly as though they were both cobras that could lash out with one wrong move. "Baby? My…darling…wife…" he said, trying his best to be cute and butter her up.

"All I'm asking is that you help me. I'm…TRYING to…try here Amanda," he looked at her, being completely honest, as honest as he could. "I can't do it without you babe," he said, imploring her through eye contact.

**BANG! **

Michael flinched ever so slightly. "_My god, how many fucking shoes does that girl own_?" he briefly wondered.

At this, Amanda's features and annoyance finally seemed to give way and she too drew in a slow breath and looked towards the ceiling before closing her eyes. "All right, all right," she said in a much softer tone. She slowly exhaled and lowered her face so that it was now level. "Namaste'," she said softly and opened her eyes very slowly.

"Yeah, yeah that's right baby, Namast-what-ever-the-fuck-it-is," Michael said, rubbing her hands encouragingly. She turned her face downwards and shot him a very brief look of irritation before she stood slowly. "You would be lost without me Michael De Santa," she said matter-of-factly and a slight smile danced across her lips. "Yes, yes I would baby," Michael said as he rose from the floor, humoring her and letting her have her moment so as to get her cooperation.

**BANG! **

"And I've told you, quit mocking me and my beliefs Michael," she said sternly. "Yoga _WORKS_ Michael and so does meditation. It would do you well to _really_ try it and take it in and be serious about it," she lectured and Michael fought the urge to roll his eyes as he tried to politely usher her from the room.

"Babe, you KNOW it just doesn't do for me what it does for you. I DO try it with you every now and then, don't I? Isn't that at least worth some kind of credit on my behalf?"

"Yes, yes you do but you don't REALLY absorb it Michael, you don't let it in!"

**BANG!**

"Baby, just PLEASE help me stop Tracey from killing her brother and I promise that I will become a buddah or monk or whatever the fuck it is you want," Michael said pleadingly and Amanda just shook her head, leaving the room with Michael immediately behind her.

It had been a year since shit had hit the fan in more ways than one. A year since Michael, Trevor and Franklin had their dealings with the likes of Devon Weston, Steve Haines, Harold "Stretch" Joseph and Wei Cheng. The year had passed relatively peacefully and much to Michael's dismay and relief, it had been quiet. Michael had seen both Franklin and Trevor on rare, brief occasions but not too often as the three had agreed to lay low and not be seen too often in the company of each other. They had agreed that it was for the best that way.

The quiet scene was good because quiet meant that at present, no one was out for their blood or looking to kill them. On the off-chance that someone did want them dead, they certainly were taking their sweet time in going about it.

However, much as he had in the past, Michael acknowledged and struggled still with the fact that he very much missed the criminal life. The rush, the power, the money, the thrill. Apart of him missed it all and knew he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise.

But one thing he had vowed to himself long ago was to try harder for his family. He had almost lost them once and it had gutted him in a way that nothing else had ever managed to. He still remembered that horrible day that Amanda had gathered up the kids and left. In no way shape or form did he miss the empty house or the sound of silence echoing through it's wall. Granted, he didn't much care for Tracey's at present loud attempts to murder her brother via shoe heel but it at least meant that they were home, with him. He wasn't alone. He had not lost them and nor would he again if he could help it.

Since that year, he had tried much harder to work on his patience with his family. Sometimes he managed and sometimes he failed. He considered it a work in progress but progress all the same. At least now it seemed that he and Amanda were somewhat on the same page and just getting to that point had been half the battle. She would never admit it out loud and if he called her on it, she'd probably deny it vehemently but she too had been a little kinder with him lately. She still had no problem pointing out his faults when he let them slip out but as of late, she had done it a lot less.

He had tried his damnedest to counter act any urges he had for illegal activity with spending time with her and the kids. Not exactly easy to do when you have two grown kids raised in Los Santos who think family time is "lame sauce" but the point was that for the first time, in a long time, they were all trying. He was trying and that made him feel pretty damn good on his end.

**BANG! **

The sound of yet ANOTHER shoe hitting Jimmy's door snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Honey STOP THROWING THINGS is all I'm asking. What happened? Just…tell me what happened! Come here sweet heart," Amanda said softly and held her arms out and Michael marveled as just like that Tracey burst into tears and dropped the shoe in her hand to the floor, running into her mother's arms. His jaw practically hit the floor. He would never understand it. He'd NEVER get it.

"_I swear that I will never fucking understand women and their emotions_," he mentally decided and just shook his head in utter disbelief.

"Tell us what happened honey," Amanda said soothingly, smoothing the hair on her daughter's head as Tracey bawled ridiculously loud while clinging to her.

"You got this babe? I'll … just … go talk to Jimmy. See if I can get his side of the story. You know, man to man kind of … stuff," Michael said, all too eager to escape Tracey's sob fest. "Yeah, you do that," Amanda said, not paying him much attention as she lead Tracey into her bedroom, softly closing the door. Michael sighed and knocked on Jimmy's door, side stepping the pile of shoes that had accumulated outside it.

"Jimmy? It's your dad, can we talk?"

No response.

Michael tried jiggling the door handle only to find that it was locked. Not much surprise there.

He knocked again firmly. "C'mon Jim, open the door," Michael said firmly, putting on his "no bullshit" tone of voice. A moment later the door opened and Jimmy peeked out. "Is the wicked bitch of the west back in her cage?" he asked and Michael pushed open the door. "Don't talk that way about your sister," Michael reprimanded him as he stepped inside. The smell immediately assaulted his senses and he flinched slightly.

"Fuck that! Have you heard how she talks to me? Always calling me 'blubber ass' and saying that my tits are bigger than hers," Jimmy said, plopping back down on his bed and grabbing his bong, proceeding to take a long hit.

"Jesus, can you at least open a window? This whole room smells like a fucking weed cave that a hermit took a shit in," Michael observed, trying in vain to wave the stench away from his nose.

"Did you just come in here just to harp at me about my room and my cleaning habits or what yo?"

"Nah, you know why I'm here Jim," Michael said and faced his son, arms crossed, face stern.

"What? Tracey? I _told_ you. She started it!"

"I don't give a shit who started what. What the hell happened?"

"Well, I got sick of her baggin' on me about my weight and talkin' shit on my LI page. So, I-"

"LI page? What the hell is that? Some new gangsta' lingo? Speak english Jim," Michael said.

"Life Invader? HELLO, uh, you have one?" Jimmy said, giving Michael a stupid look that he didn't much appreciate.

"Right, right, that website bullshit. Okay, go on," Michael urged, trying to hide the growing irritation. "_I'm getting too fucking old for this shit_," he thought, a thought that he found himself thinking more and more recently.

"Well, I may have…I mean I…hacked into her page and just posted what I already knew," Jimmy said, trying his best to act nonchalant as he lay back on his bed, arms behind his head.

"Which was?"

"That she fucked half of Los Santos U's football team and that she'll take it up the ass by anyone with a jersey and a number."

"Jesus JIMMY!" Michael said, wincing and raising both hands in alarm, immediately regretting that he had asked. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Michael cried, more disgusted at the mental images that were invading his thoughts more than anything else. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was picture was his little girl taking it in all ends.

"Wrong with _me_!? Fuck that yo! She gets to post shit about me all the time! All I said was the truth-"

"AAH! AH! AH! AH! AH!" Michael said, cutting him off, raising a hand to silence him. "I am going to pretend that I DIDN'T hear this…for my health," Michael said and held up a finger to silence Jimmy. "Look, just…don't antagonize your sister, all right? Knock it the fuck off, both of you. You're too old to be having me and your mom tell you two to hug and make up, all right?"

"But she gets to…ant-antoe-go-nize…me? Or whatever the fuck it is, how's that shit fair, yo?!"

"Your mom is talking to her right now! I mean it! No more of this shit Jimmy, from either of you. College is important to your sister-"

"Yeah so she can meet guys and eat her fill of co-"

"_**JIMMY**_!" Michael roared, leaning in on his son.

"ALL RIGHT! All right! Don't pop a vein! I won't do it again, aight? Are we done now?" Jimmy said, setting his bong down and reaching for his game controller.

Michael just shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. "_Fuck this pro-parenting shit, fuck it all to hell_," he mentally cursed as his brain still tried to scrub itself of the mental imagery.

"Just, don't…do it again, got it?" Michael warned and stepped over to Jimmy's window. "And let some fucking light and fresh air in here could you please?" Michael snapped, whipping back the curtain so that the sun's ray's flooded the room.

"Anything else you want to gripe at me for?! Maybe you want me to start wearin' polo shirts and take up golf?" Jimmy shot back, rolling his eyes.

"At least it'd be-" Michael began but stopped abruptly upon looking out the window. Sitting in park near the De Santa family residence gate was a single black sedan. Normally, he'd have thought little, next to nothing about it except for the fact that at the moment it was right in his very own driveway, blocking the exit. Michael strained his old eyes to see better and from what he could make out the figure inside at the wheel seemed to be looking in the direction of his house.

"_I don't like this_."

Michael turned away from the window and headed out of Jimmy's room and down the stairs hurriedly, grabbing the door and yanking it open. He stepped out onto the front stoop of their home and his eyes searched for the black sedan but found no long found any trace of it.

"What the hell," he muttered very softly under his breath. Had he imagined it? "_No, no I saw it. I'm getting old but I'm not going senile, not yet anyway_," his mind spoke, reenforcing what he had seen. Michael slowly drew in a shaky breath as his hand dug around in his pocket anxiously for his cell phone.

He quickly found Franklin's number and called it. It only took about three rings before Franklin answered. "Yo, what up Mike?"

"Franklin! Listen…ah…we need to talk," Michael said with dead seriousness and to his surprise, Franklin responded with, "Yeah, yeah we do. I heard that."


	4. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Hello readers. First and fore most I really want to thank anyone who is following/has favorited this story and who has taken the time to write a review. It's tremendously motivating to continue my writing when I know I have people reading, following and enjoying the story. I will continue to do my very best to do this story justice and see it through to the end. So thank you greatly :)

Now, on to the real purpose for uploading this note. I will have chapter 3 ready for upload and published in a the next day or two. I really do apologize for the delay. However, I feel that I should issue two immediate words of warning… chapter 3 is longer than the previous chapters and it contains a very touchy subject matter. I will issue an additional warning on the actual chapter itself but I felt that I needed to warn readers in advance as I did not just want to have someone reading and then be suddenly horrified/disturbed/offended at the subject content. chapter 3 deals with a near-rape scene of a young girl and while I tried to keep it very mild and tried to avoid going into any sort of overly graphic detail, it is still, understandably, a very dark and very uncomfortable scene to read.

I debated about posting this but in the end (and with some friends' advice) I decided that this chapter _was_ absolutely necessary because this event will eventually help readers understand why Mattie does what she does later on in her life and will ultimately be one of the major moments in her life that defines the person she becomes later on. I believe very much in character development and this scene, as uncomfortable as it may be, will be essential to her character development as the story progresses.

So again, I just wanted to give fair warning as I realize that this subject matter may bother some people and I didn't feel it fair to just suddenly spring it on readers. If you have a problem reading this subject matter or simply do not wish to do so, you can wait for chapter 4 to be posted which will involve Franklin (and I promise to make it a lot more light hearted than chapter 3). Skipping chapter 3 it is not recommended but probably do-able. Thank you for continued reading and most of all thank you for your understanding :)


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